Obliviate
by WhitePhoenixes
Summary: What if Harry had met Draco long before Hogwarts? A series of oneshots exploring that particular theme.


**Title:** Obliviate  
><strong>RatingWarnings:** PG-13  
><strong>CharactersPairing:** Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter  
><strong>Summary:<strong> What if Harry had met Draco long before Hogwarts?  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> 718  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> This Kat is rather rusty with writing for the HP fandom at the moment. :\ more than 4 years of absence does that to you.  
><strong>Registered purchases?:<strong> None ):  
>Prompt: Challenge 102: Memory Charm <strong>hh_writersblock<strong>

Harry always knew that there was something missing. Even as he embarked on his sixth year at Hogwarts, with Malfoy skulking around Hogwarts' corridors distracting him, he knew. He had started to suspect something when he laid eyes on Lucius Malfoy again at the Department of Mysteries. Even as he stood opposite the older blond, trying to prevent him from making off with the prophecy, he had this niggling feeling that he was missing something. There was something off about the way Lucius Malfoy looked at him, but for the life of him, he just couldn't remember.

Looking back, he figured that he should have realised that there was something just wrong about Draco's reaction to his not being friends with the blond. Now, it had seemed too extreme, as though as the blond was acting out of betrayal more than anything. But it wasn't possible, wasn't it? Harry was certain that he had never laid eyes on Draco Malfoy until that day at Madam Malkin's, where the blond had basically sneered at him and insulted the first magical person he had ever met. Nevertheless, he knew that there was something wrong, as though as there was something that he was meant to be remembering, but failing to.

He was currently seated in front of the Gryffindor common room's fireplace. It was silent all around. Most of the Gryffindors have since left the common room for their beds, except for him. Harry appreciated the newfound silence that surrounded him. It gave him time to think, if not probe his memories.

Harry closed his eyes, willing his mind to still as he slipped into meditative state that Snape had tried to drill into him during his brief stint as his Occulumency teacher. His breathing deepened and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.

-  
><em>The six year old boy snuck out of Number 4 Private Drive quietly. His cousin was around… somewhere. As per normal, Uncle Vernon had left for work in a huff. His aunt was still in the kitchen. Harry was supposed to be weeding the garden, but in what he would later term as a 'fit of madness', he dashed off to play at the playground at the park nearby.<em>

_There was no one at the playground. Harry grinned, clambering up the steps of the slide before sliding down the slide with a happy grin. It was one of his favourite things to do. For a brief moment, he felt as though as he was flying._

_A loud voice broke through the silence that had settled around the park. Harry's head snapped up and he looked around frantically, worried that it was Dudley with his gang again. To his relief, he caught side of a tall blond holding the hand of a young boy. The boy was looking around as though as he had never been to a playground before. Curious now, Harry moved closer to the pair._

_"Hi," he said shyly, peeking up at the older man before switching his attention to the blond boy._

_The boy smiled at him. Harry felt warmth suffuse him. He grinned up at the older man, noting with glee that there was a distinct twitch of the man's mouth as he did so._

_"I'm Harry," he introduced, holding out his hand to the blond boy._

_"Draco Malfoy," the boy replied, grasping his hand in a firm handshake._

_The two grinned at each other, before Harry, still holding on to Draco's hand, dragged him off towards the swings._

_Hidden in the shadows, blue eyes peered sorrowfully at the two boys._

_"I'm sorry, Harry."_

_The wand was aimed carefully at Harry. A deep breath taken._

_"Obliviate!"_

_Later on, Harry would wake up alone in his cupboard, none the wiser._  
>-<p>

Harry's eyes shot open. The dream (or was it a memory?) was still fresh in his mind. He frowned. What was that? He wondered.

Harry sighed, standing up, stretching his sore limbs. The dream was soon pushed to the back of his mind as he realised that he was going to be late for Potions.

As he rushed out of the portrait hole, he thought he remembered a day of laughter with a blond boy. Then that thought was forgotten as he broke out into a flat out dash to the dungeons.

_Fin?_


End file.
